


The Black Knight

by savya398



Series: Incomplete HP Alternate Parents [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter is a Malfoy, Harry is a Black
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 20:04:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savya398/pseuds/savya398
Summary: Regulus Black survived his journey in the cave with Kreacher's help. However, for the past decade he's been in a coma. When he wakes up and realizes he's Harry Potter's father he'll do anything necessary to get his son back.





	1. Awaken Sleeper

**Author's Note:**

> Another fairly old story. It has a similar premise to the Black Secret with a slightly different twist

Regulus Arcturus Black woke suddenly with a gasp. His hands instantly went to his throat expecting to feel the overwhelming sense of thirst, along with being tormented by his worst nightmares and see pale, dead hands reaching for him to drag him deep beneath black water. But he wasn’t. He was alive and no longer in the cave he believed he was going to die in. In fact he felt good despite the stiffness in his limbs. He groaned as he sat up and ran a hand over his face revealing several months’ growth of a neatly trimmed beard.

“Master is awake!” cried an all too familiar voice.

Regulus turned to see Kreacher, his ever-loyal house-elf. The old, slightly mad, elf was practically dancing as he stared up at Regulus with big eyes. There were more wrinkles around the house elf’s face causing Regulus to frown, and his heart to race. How long had he been unconscious?

Regulus smiled at the wizened old elf, “Kreacher, how did I get here? I thought for certain I would meet my end in that cave.”

“Kreacher came back for his Master. Yes, he did. Master Black be telling Kreacher to leave but he be saying nothing about coming back,” Kreacher said proudly.

“Clever,” Regulus praised as he took in his surroundings. He was in his bedroom in Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Kreacher beamed. “Kreacher’s been taking care of his Master. His Master’s been sleeping for a long, long time. Kreacher has been very worried about his Master. Kreacher worried Master would never wake up and that Kreacher would fail to follow his Master’s last order. He could not destroy the locket no matter what Kreacher tried.”

“Do you still have it?” Regulus demanded, heart pounding.

Kreacher nodded and quickly pulled it from underneath his sack shirt. Regulus took the locket holding it by the chain for a moment before placing it on his nightstand. The dark magic in the horcrux left him feeling uneasy, the effects of which were only exacerbated through close physical contact.

“How long have I been asleep, Kreacher? Does anyone else know I’m alive?” Regulus questioned.

“No, Master Black. No one else be knowing. Kreacher has kept Master’s room sealed and not even Mistress knew that Master Black is alive. Not that Mistress ever tried to come in Master’s room. Mistress was very upset. The house of Black has fallen very low. Master’s death is on the family tapestry. Master’s heart did stop for just a moment before Kreacher could be saving him. Now Mistress is dead. Master is the only Black left now,” Kreacher muttered nervously.

“What year is it, Kreacher?” Regulus insisted.

News of his mother’s death didn’t exactly fill him with overwhelming sorrow. Of course he was upset at the news but his mother had never been the type of loving, maternal figure one would expect a mother to be. As Blacks they were supposed to keep firm holds of their emotions. Continuing the prestige of the Noble and Ancient House of Black was their main priority at all times. Regulus had loved her, and he knew she had loved him, most of the time. Walburga Black certainly cared for him more than she had for his older brother.

“It is April 13th1992\. Master Black has been in a deep sleep for almost 13 years now,” Kreacher informed him anxiously watching for Regulus’s reaction.

Regulus accepted this answer as calmly as anyone in such a situation could. He had gone after the horcrux in December of 1979, which meant Regulus had lost over a decade of his life but it certainly could have been far worse. He did his best to call on all his years of Pureblood training, and get a hold on his tumultuous emotions. Regulus had only just grasped the basics of Occlumency when he’d gone after the Dark Lord’s horcrux. The need to hide his discovery from the Dark Lord had necessitated that he learn as quickly as he could. Now that he was awake he was even more determined to continue to practice it until he mastered the ability. It was too useful a skill not to have. Regulus wanted complete control over his mind. No one would ever be able to control him again.

“Tell me everything that’s happened in my absence,” Regulus commanded calmly, feeling slightly numb from shoving his emotions away so harshly.

Kreacher did his best to follow the order. Regulus wasn’t prepared to hear about the Dark Lord’s downfall all thanks to little Harry Potter. The story apparently went that he had somehow survived the Killing Curse. The curse then rebounded on the Dark Lord, destroying him instead. Regulus didn’t believe for a moment that he was completely destroyed. The still fully functional horcrux made him well aware that the Dark Lord was still out there somewhere even if his physical body had been destroyed.

What shocked him more was that his brother Sirius had been tossed in Azkaban for apparently betraying the Potters, and then blowing up a street with a bunch of muggles in order to kill Peter Pettigrew. Regulus couldn’t imagine such a thing to be true. There had been no one Sirius cared for more than his little group of friends especially James Potter. But apparently Sirius had confessed, plus he’d been found laughing at the scene of the crime. It didn’t take long for the Aurors to believe he was guilty.

Bellatrix, her husband, brother-in-law, and Barty Crouch Jr. were likewise thrown in Azkaban, which wasn’t as much of a surprise. They’d been caught torturing the Longbottoms into insanity soon after the Dark Lord’s fall. A few of the other Dark Lord’s followers had managed to escape but Regulus was surprised by the sheer number of them that had managed to avoid Azkaban simply by pleading being under the effects of the Imperious, and were even now working for the Ministry as if nothing had happened. Severus Snape of all people was the potions professor at Hogwarts.

Lucius Malfoy had even gone so far as to wriggle himself into a position of power in the short decade after being accused of working with the Dark Lord. Lucius always was a slippery sort of wizard, very cunning, and very good at manipulating weaker minds by giving them what they desired. Regulus had admired him for it. Thinking of Lucius Malfoy drew Regulus’ thoughts towards the man’s younger sister.

“And what of Illthyia Malfoy? What happened to her? Did you give her my letter?” Regulus asked.

For as long as he could remember Regulus had been in love with Illthyia Malfoy. From the moment she tricked him into handing over his treacle tart, his absolute favorite dessert, at a Yule Ball when they were five he knew there would never be another for him. They had both been sorted into Slytherin in the same year and spent their school years together as if bound together by a sticking charm. Illthyia had even helped him on a number of occasions at getting back at his brother and his pack of Gryffindor friends. Regulus had thought the two of them would get married as soon as they had graduated from school. Regulus’ involvement with Voldemort changed all of his plans.

Illythia had wanted nothing to with the Dark Lord. She rebelled against her brother, and father who both insisted on following him. She thought the Dark Lord was a fraud who was incapable of actually leading them. Illthyia shattered Regulus by deciding to leave for France as soon as they graduated Hogwarts. She had begged him to come with her but he refused. For as long as he could remember he had been the ‘good’ Black son. The one everyone had expected to lead the family and maintain the family’s prestigious heritage.

He had to join the Dark Lord if he was going to make his parents proud, and seeing the way they had treated Sirius made him want to make them proud more than anything. He’d been pleased to earn his parents’ approval but he deeply regretted losing Illthyia. Regulus had never thought for a moment that he would not end up with Illthyia Malfoy. None of the scenarios he concocted for his future didn’t include Illthyia, and for a while he had been left adrift.

The Dark Lord’s increasing madness, and violence had Regulus questioning his loyalties. He regretted not following Illthyia to France when he’d had the chance. It was only when the Dark Lord demanded the use of Kreacher that Regulus realized just how truly depraved Voldemort had become with the discovery of the horcrux. In despair over the path he’d chosen he’d defied the Dark Lord, and sought out Illthyia. Regulus had admitted his mistake, and his plans on breaking free of the Dark Lord.

He hadn’t told her of the horcruxes it would have been too dangerous and given her an even bigger target on her back considering the Dark Lord was already angry with her because of her rather public dismissal of him. They had made up and Regulus had been so pleased to have her forgiveness. He’d promised to return as soon as he’d gotten ahold of the horcrux, and then handed it over to the Light’s Order of the Phoenix. He had been more than willing to allow the group to take over getting rid of Voldemort while he and Illthyia waited it out from the safety of France.

However, it never happened. He’d nearly died in that cave, and now twelve years had passed since Regulus’s promise to return to Illthyia. Regulus desperately wanted to know what had happened to her. She would have believed that he had died. Had she gone on with her life, found someone else? All of these thoughts halted when Kreacher spoke the following words.

“Illthyia Malfoy is dead Master Black,” Kreacher told him gently. Illthyia was the only other person who Kreacher held a true soft spot for considering her kindness to the elf, and because of the love Regulus held for her.

“How?” Regulus managed to choke out, utterly devastated. Illthyia’s death was far more devastating to him than his mother’s.

“The nasty Dark Master’s servants killed her.”

Regulus dropped his head into his hands, and wondered if her death was in retaliation of what he had done. Had the Dark Lord discovered his betrayal? It seemed more than likely. The Dark Lord had almost two years between the switch and his own defeat to discover the theft. He would have wanted to punish Regulus even when he believed him dead.

“Were you able to give her my letter before her death?” Regulus questioned.

“Yes, Master Black,” Kreacher assured.

The letter had simply told her of his feelings for her, and if she was receiving this letter then it meant that he was dead and how sorry he was for leaving her.

“Miss Malfoy gave Kreacher a letter, too,” Kreacher suddenly announced.

“Why would she have done that? She would have already believed me dead,” Regulus frowned.

“Miss Malfoy said she trusted Kreacher to hold it for her incase something bad be happening to her or the filthy blood traitors, the Potters. She said Kreacher would need to be giving it to Harry Potter when he was old enough.”

“Harry Potter? The Potters? What do the Potters have to do with anything?” Regulus questioned in confusion.

“Kreacher does not know. Kreacher did not read the letter,” Kreacher swore, producing the sealed parchment from beneath his sack shirt.

Regulus took the letter and opened it. He began to read the heartwarmingly familiar handwriting. However, the contents had Regulus reeling in even more shock. The letter was addressed to Harry Potter, and was to be given to the boy on his thirteenth birthday, the year the blood adoption potion would dissolve.

“Is Master Black all right?” Kreacher asked anxiously after a solid ten minutes of Regulus staring blankly at the letter in his hands unable to believe that it was real.

“I have a son,” he croaked.

“Master Black is a father? Where is Master Black’s little boy? He should be with Master for he is a Black.”

“He’s Harry Potter. My son is Harry Potter. Illthyia fell pregnant after our reconciliation. I went missing soon after and was proclaimed dead. She knew she couldn’t keep the baby because she was now a target to the Dark Lord especially after her involvement with me. She bumped into Lily Potter at a midwifery clinic. She had suffered a miscarriage, and it appeared unlikely that she would be able to have another. Illthyia thought she was kind and would make a good mother. They had spent some time together in school because of Lily’s friendship with Severus Snape. She offered to allow Lily and James to adopt our son. No one knew the truth that Harry wasn’t really their son. When did Illthyia… when did she pass away?”

“Kreacher thinks it was in the winter of 1980. Only a year after Master Regulus became sick.”

“This was written before the Dark Lord’s attack. Before Lily and James Potter made themselves targets. She thought she was saving our son. Not making him a bigger target,” Regulus murmured softly.

Although, Illthyia had been murdered as well. Their son would no doubt have perished if he had remained with Illthyua. It did make Regulus even more curious as to how the baby had survived the Killing Curse, and why the Dark Lord had gone after the Potters specifically. He normally left his followers to carry out his orders. It was rare that he personally went after someone.

However, that thought could be saved for another day. At the moment Regulus wanted to find out exactly where his son was. He would be eleven almost twelve years old now, and Regulus was determined to have him. He was the only living piece of Illthyia in this world and Regulus wanted to raise his child. He’d already missed the first eleven almost twelve years of his life. He hadn’t witnessed his first steps or seen him be born. But no more. His son was a Black and would be raised as one.

Regulus knew his son must have been in Hogwarts now, and he planned to use the months before summer to reestablish himself and regain custody of his son. He couldn’t think of who would possibly have custody of him, though. If he remembered correctly James Potter’s parents were dead, and he had no other family. Sirius had been tossed into Azkaban. Peter Pettigrew was dead. Alice Longbottom, Lily’s only close school friend, had been tortured out of her mind along with her husband. And Remus Lupin was a werewolf who would never be declared fit to raise a child.

A terrifying thought suddenly crossed Regulus’s mind. Lily Potter had been a muggleborn. What if they had sent his son to live with muggles? No, surely the Ministry would never place a wizarding child especially a child who was hailed as the defeater of the Dark Lord to live amongst muggles. But Regulus couldn’t shake the fear. The sooner he got custody of his son the better he would feel.

He tried to get out of bed to do just that only to fall back flat on the mattress with Kreacher berating him for hurting himself. Regulus was weak from years in a magically induced coma. He would need to build up his strength, and come up with a plan before he charged off like some bull-headed Gryffindor. He tried to relax himself, and think things through like a rational Slytherin. In a calm authoritative voice he began to list some potions for Kreacher to order.

He would need plenty of restorative potions before he could get himself up and moving. Regulus would also need to catch himself up to date with the current affairs of the ministry. He needed to know if he was ever proclaimed as a Death Eater. Regulus was planning for success and wouldn’t allow anything less. If it was known that he had been a Death Eater then it would vastly effect his plans moving forward.

After a bit of resting he hefted himself out of bed and got himself into the bathroom. Kreacher had been taking good care of him but nothing could really take the place of a nice warm bath. He cleaned himself thoroughly, and let his muscles relax in the water. Regulus trimmed his hair a bit. The black wavy curls had gotten a bit too long, and he trimmed it to rest just at chin length. He also shaved his beard into an artfully styled goatee. He’d never had facial hair as a youth and he’d kept his hair short. This had been in an effort to look different from his brother, without these subtle differences Regulus and Sirius looked far too similar for the comfort of either brother. But hopefully the longer hair and goatee would cover his face enough to keep people from instantly recognizing him.

If Regulus was known as a wanted Death Eater he was going to need to disguise himself to be able to navigate the wizarding world. If he wasn’t a convicted Death Earth he’d want a bit of disguise to quickly travel through Diagon Alley to Gringotts to prove he was alive, and to claim his lordship. He’d also need it when he went to the ministry to begin the proceedings to gain custody of his son. Regulus didn’t want to be waylaid by answering unnecessary questions, or causing a riot.  

It took him nearly two weeks before he was strong enough to stand up for more than an hour or two at a time. In that time he read the newspapers and the history books from the past decade that Kreacher provided him with. Regulus’s worst fears were realized when it was confirmed in one book that Harry Potter had grown up with his loving relatives in a secret location known only by the Ministry. His son had started his first year at Hogwarts just this past September. The paper reported he’d been sorted into Gryffindor.

Regulus had to be honest with himself in that he was a little disappointed with this outcome. He would have liked to see his son join his old house. Not that he was about to disinherit him like his own parents had done to Sirius. Perhaps it was even for the best. Being in Gryffindor cast less suspicion against his son. The wizarding world had become quite prejudice against all things dark thanks to the Dark Lord. Dark magic wasn’t always seen as evil. It was only with the rise of Grindelwald, and later the Dark Lord that Dark become synonymous with evil.

Regulus also discovered that both of his grandfathers, Arcturus and Pollux Black had both died within a year of one another. It meant that Regulus was now head of the house as the remaining Black wizard from the male line. His father Orion had died several months before Regulus even his mother’s brothers Cygnus and Alphard were dead. The Black family really had fallen low. Regulus, Sirius, and now his son were the only remaining male Blacks.

Cornelius Fudge was the current Minister of Magic. He’d been elected just last year. The fool was utterly incompetent, and allowed others like Albus Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy to walk all over him and make decisions for him. How he got elected confounded Regulus. He hadn’t even questioned the placement of Harry Potter. Wizards didn’t have orphanages. Orphaned children were given to their closest magical, blood relative. If there were no relatives there would be friends or other families willing to foster a child. Even the darkest families would take in a magical child rather than see them raised by muggles. Anything was preferable to allowing a wizarding child to grow up in a non-magical environment if they absolutely didn’t have to. The risks of exposure were simply too high.

For some unknown reason Harry Potter, the most celebrated magical child in their world, had been given to Lily Potter’s muggle relatives to raise. Regulus couldn’t imagine the reasons as to why but he was not going to allow his son to continue to live with them. He wouldn’t allow his son to go back to the muggles once Hogwarts was out.

Regulus focused on finding out what the public thought about his demise. He hadn’t wanted many people to know about his sacrifice. After all if Voldemort had known that Regulus had figured out that he had horcruxes he would have come after his family. But it was inevitable that the public would find out he was gone. It seemed that it had been spread around that Voldemort had killed him personally after he had tried to leave the Death Eaters. Regulus had even been pardoned posthumously. The story worked wonderfully for Regulus. It meant that he didn’t need to worry about criminal actions being taken against him once he revealed he was alive, and he would be able to easily gain custody of his son.

It took Regulus another two weeks before he was strong enough to make the trip to Gringotts. He had to carefully make his way out of Grimmauld Place in order to avoid the portrait of his mother. He wasn’t ready to have to deal with her, and the revelation that he was alive.

Strolling through Diagon Alley was an experience. The atmosphere was much brighter than what he remembered. There were more people moving about with their children who were too young for Hogwarts. The last time Regulus had been to Diagon Alley it had been wearing his Death Eater robes and mask. The raid had been terrifying despite the ease with which Regulus felt in dueling his opponents. Regulus hadn’t wanted to kill anyone, and had been more than a little unnerved by the cackling from his cousin Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus. He’d been happy when the Aurors had arrived, and it had given him an excuse to leave.

Regulus shook off the thoughts of the past. He was alive, and had a future to look forward to if he played his cards right.

At Gringotts he requested the Black family account manager, and a private room. Regulus wasn’t about to reveal his identity in the middle of Gringotts where any witch or wizard might overhear. The Black family account manager was a sharply intelligent goblin called Vigtak who was very familiar with the Black family. His own ancestors had been the account managers for the Blacks for centuries.

“Vigtak, how are you?” Regulus greeted as the goblin entered the office.

“Regulus Black, it is good to see that you are alive,” Vigtak nodded, sitting down behind the desk.

It was hard to tell by the goblin’s black eyes if he was surprised to see Regulus or not. The goblin would be able to sense his familiar magic after working for the Blacks for so long.

“You probably can surmise why I’m here,” Regulus stated.

“Of course, you wish to prove your identity and claim your rightful inheritance,” Vigtak nodded.

“Yes,” Regulus agreed.

“I will send for a ministry official if it is your wish. They will need to witness the test if you want to be confirmed alive in the ministry as well,” Vigtak offered, already pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill.

“I would like to reveal my existence to the ministry as I need to gain custody of my son who I would like to make my legal heir,” Regulus added.

“That can certainly be arranged,” Vigtak nodded.

He completed the letter, and sent it off to the ministry. While they were waiting for the official to arrive Regulus and Vigtak went over the paperwork needed to turn the Black estate over to Regulus, and to make his son his legal heir. Vigtak didn’t need the blood test to confirm that he already knew Regulus was actually alive.

“Harry Potter is your son?” Vigtak asked in surprise.

“Yes, I plan to start proceedings for custody of him as soon as my identity is confirmed. Are you aware if James and Lily Potter legally made him their heir? I know they legally adopted him even though the adoption was not widely known,” Regulus explained.

“I will contact the Potter estate manager and find out for you,” Vigtak sent off another letter.

The two of them were just wrapping up the paperwork when the ministry official arrived. The wizard was middle aged and plump. He wore orange robes that thankfully were nowhere near as garish as some of the robes worn by Albus Dumbledore, and carried a briefcase.

“I’m Everard Bode from the administrative registration department. Our department was contacted to confirm the identity of a wizard seeking his inheritance,” Bode announced.

The administrative registration department was responsible for registering all wizards within magical Britain. It kept note of births, marriages, and deaths.

“Yes, that is correct. I am Manager Vigtak. I was just about to perform the identity test,” Vigtak explained.

Bode turned to Regulus.

“And may I ask your name?” Bode asked politely as he pulled out some parchment from his briefcase to take some notes.

“My name is Regulus Arcturus Black,” Regulus answered calmly.

Bode’s eyes widened almost comically, and his quill quivered against his parchment.

“Regulus Black? But he—you died,” Bode stuttered.

“Technically yes, I did. However, my loyal house elf was able to revive me and keep me alive. I have been in a coma for the past twelve years. I only woke up recently,” Regulus explained.

“You will need to prove this claim,” Bode told him carefully.

“That is why we are here, Mr. Bode. I am more than willing to prove my identity,” Regulus assured.

“Oh, right, of course,” Bode smiled apologetically. “It’s not often we have wizards come back from the dead.”

“I’m sure,” Regulus flashed a tight smile, his mind on the Dark Lord.

“If you are ready, Mr. Bode?” Vigtak glanced between the two wizards.

“Yes, certainly,” Bode nodded.

Vigtak laid out the specially treated parchment on the desk. Goblins had perfected genealogy spells in order to settle inheritance disputes, and to prove identities when wizards lost their keys to their vaults. Goblins were very careful of who they allowed down into the vaults. It was impossible to tamper with, and very difficult to make it. Not to mention it was very expensive to make, which was why wizards used easier methods to test blood connections but they wouldn’t produce the same in-depth results.

Vigtak then passed Regulus a small golden knife in order to cut a small nick in his skin. Regulus who had participated in spells and potions that required blood had very little difficulty slicing open the pad of his thumb and allowing a couple of drops to fall on to the parchment.

Within moments looping red script spread out across the parchment. The first thing to appear was his own name, followed by the names of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Finally ‘one son’ was scrawled underneath his own name connected to Illthyia Malfoy’s name, confirming what Regulus already knew.

“Well, this certainly proves your identity, Mr. Black. I’ll just be needing an official copy to take back with me to put in the ministry’s files. I will update your status immediately, Mr. Black, and I’m sure Gringotts is already taking measures to allow you access to your vaults,” Bode promised, all too eager to help out.

“Thank you for your swift actions, Mr. Bode. However, there is something more that you might be able to help me with,” Regulus explained, laying on the Black charm a bit thick. Sirius wasn’t the only Black who was able to persuade and flatter someone in order to get his way.

“I will certainly do my best,” Bode agreed.

“You see my son was adopted while I was in a coma. My fiancé thought I was dead by You Know Who’s hands, and she feared he would come after our son. A valid fear considering she was later murdered. She gave our child to a close friend of my brother’s, and his wife who were unable to have children of their own. My fiancé was so worried she even insisted on a blood potion to hide our son. I’ve since found out that his adoptive parents are dead, and as I never officially signed off on the adoption I would like to get custody,” Regulus justified.

“Oh, dear,” Bode looked properly drawn in by the sordid tale. “What are the names of your fiancé, child, and the adoptive parents?”

“My fiancé was Illthyia Malfoy. My son’s adoptive name is Harry Potter, and his adoptive parents were the late James and Lily Potter,” Regulus professed.

“Oh, my. Oh, my,” Bode’s eyes looked like they might fall right out of his head.

“Yes, I know it is quite an outlandish claim but it is one that I am willing to prove. I have a letter here from Illthyia to help corroborate my story. She wrote it to our son in the event that something happened to her or the Potters,” Regulus agreed calmly.

“Gringotts records show that the Potters had to specifically arrange for everything to be left to Harry Potter as he was not related to them by blood. There should also be a file with the ministry to confirm the adoption as Gringotts holds a copy of the adoption forms,” Vigtak added.

“Well, we will schedule a paternity test, and a custody hearing,” Bode stammered.

“I would like it done as soon as possible,” Regulus emphasized.

“Understandable, Mr. Black. I will get in touch with the department of inheritance. They are a department within administrative registration department, and they deal with custody cases. I will send you an owl within a day or two to schedule the paternity test,” Bode assured.

“Thank you, I appreciate your swift action,” Regulus gave the other wizard a warm smile.

“Just doing my job, Mr. Black,” Bode flushed.

Bode said his goodbyes shortly after getting a copy of Regulus’s identity test. Regulus took the time to get copies of all the statements on the Black accounts before returning Grimmauld Place. Regulus was very pleased with the way the day had turned out, and he would only need to wait just a bit longer before he got custody of his son. 

Regulus spent the next two days waiting for an owl from the ministry by going over the Black accounts. There was still a very good amount of wealth in the Black estate. However, they had started to decline a bit over the past few years. His mother obviously hadn’t done anything with the vaults or with the various properties owned by the Blacks in the years before her death. After her death there had been no one to look after the vaults at all. Regulus was determined to restore the former glory of the House of Black. He also needed to start thinking about the Dark Lord, and how he was going to destroy his horcrux.

However, those things would all come after his son. Regulus’s own parents had been strict and distant. They had high expectations of him, and would praise him only when he accomplished something they approved of. He’d seen how harsh they could be when Sirius decided to follow his own path. Regulus didn’t want to be the same sort of parent as his own had been. Of course he wanted to teach his son the pureblood traditions he had learned growing up but he also didn’t want to put the same pressure on him that Orion and Walburga had. He would let his son choose his own future, and he would do his best to show how much he already loved his child.

The owl from the ministry arrived on the second day after his trip to Gringotts scheduling the paternity for the following day. They had looked into the Potters’ records and discovered that Harry had indeed been adopted. They would need the paternity test to confirm Regulus was actually his birth father, and then they would administer the antidote to the blood potion. The custody hearing would be set for the next day. If one was even necessary. It was more of a technicality. Regulus was assured custody once the paternity test came back positive. Wizards valued family far too much, and the closest family member always won custody suits unless there were extreme extenuating circumstances.

Regulus was thrilled with the news.

He was so certain that he would be awarded custody that he tasked Kreacher with setting up his old bedroom for his son while Regulus moved into the master suit. He’d also made sure that Kreacher cleaned up Grimmauld Place as a whole. Regulus’s childhood home was a mess, and if his mother was still alive she would not have appreciated the ruin Kreacher had allowed to consume the place. The poor old house elf had tried to punish himself. Regulus had quickly put a top to such a thing.

Regulus eagerly awaited his appointment, and the moment he would finally get to meet his son.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter didn’t think his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry could have gotten any more complicated. It had been absolutely amazing so far as well. Harry loved magic and Hogwarts. The school was the home that his relatives’ house never had been. People liked him here, and he actually had friends. Best friends in fact. Harry wasn’t looking forward to the end of term, and returning to his relatives, the Dursleys.

Hogwarts would have been perfect if it wasn’t for the mystery of the third floor corridor, and the risk of someone trying to steal what was hidden in there. His friends, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley were scrambling as they tried to figure out what they should do to protect the Philosopher’s Stone from their own professor.

Severus Snape was another not so good thing about Hogwarts. His professor had hated him from the very first day Harry had stepped into the potion’s classroom. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had become certain that Snape was the one after the stone. After all he had to be the one behind all of the bad things that kept happening to Harry over the school year like his broom getting jinxed during his first Quidditch game.

However, those things were pushed to the back of his mind when Professor McGonagall came to collect him in the middle of his Charms class with Professor Flitwick. She wore a grim expression as she marched him up to headmaster Dumbledore’s office, a place Harry had yet to go despite having gotten into trouble a few times this year.

Harry couldn’t imagine what he could have done wrong as he watched a stone griffon jump aside to reveal a spiral staircase. Professor McGonagall led the way up the stairs into Dumbledore’s office. At first Harry was too overwhelmed by all of the different whirling objects in the office to really take notice of the occupants.

All too soon his attention was brought to Dumbledore’s desk, which Dumbledore sat behind, and a middle-aged witch sat in front of.

“Hello Harry, my dear boy. Come have a seat,” Dumbledore had waved him over to a chair in front of his desk beside the unknown witch.

Harry dutifully obeyed as Professor McGonagall excused herself from the office.

“Professor Dumbledore, what’s going on? Why am I here?” Harry asked.

“Harry this is Tilda Hopkirk, she—” Dumbledore was interrupted before he could continue.

“I work for the department of inheritance in the ministry. We’ve had quite a special case come up involving yourself, Mr. Potter, that I’ve come to explain to you,” Hopkirk cut in.

“So I inherited something then?” Harry frowned.

“In a way I suppose you have,” Hopkirk mused.

Harry looked at Dumbledore in confusion. The headmaster was missing the telltale twinkle in his blue eyes. In fact there was the smallest hint of a frown on the respected wizard’s forehead.

“Well, I suppose I should get right to the point. Someone has come forward with information that you were adopted. We’ve double-checked this information, and indeed we have records of your adoption in the ministry. It was your birth father that came forward. He has been in a magically induced coma for the past twelve years. He woke up just a month ago, and the moment he recovered he came forward in order to get custody of you. Now, we don’t have any record of who your biological father is so we need to conduct a paternity test to confirm the wizard who came forward is your father. We’ve set one up for tomorrow afternoon. After the paternity test we will also be administering an antidote to the blood adoption potion you were given as an infant as they are illegal,” Hopkirk went on.

Harry stared at her in stunned silence. He had only just found out a couple of months ago that his parents hadn’t died in a car accident, and were in fact heroes who stood up to an evil wizard to save him. Now they were telling him that he was actually adopted, and his birth father might even be alive.

“Do you have any questions, Harry? Miss Hopkirk dropped quite a lot of information on you,” Dumbledore said gently while also sending a disapproving glance at the witch.

“I… don’t know where to start,” Harry mumbled.

“It’s a lot to take in I’m sure,” Hopkirk looked a little embarrassed, and looked like she wanted to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder but stopped herself half way.

“So, I’m definitely adopted?” Harry asked.

“Yes, we have signed documents from your adoptive parents, and your birth mother,” Hopkirk nodded firmly.

“Who’s my birth mother? Is she alive too?” Harry questioned.

“Her name was Illthyia Malfoy, unfortunately she died a few months after you were born,” Hopkirk explained gently.

Harry was further stunned for two different reasons. One, his birth mother was dead, and he still wouldn’t get the chance to have a mother. Two his mother’s last name was Malfoy. She couldn’t possibly be related to his rival the poncy git Draco Malfoy, right?

“What is a blood adoption potion?” Harry asked.

“The potion alters your appearance to that of your adopted parents’ appearance. It is something that is no longer legal to use within the British Wizarding World for that reason the antidote must be administered. It will return your true appearance,” Hopkirk explained.

“I don’t really look this?” Harry didn’t know how to process that.

“I’m afraid not,” Hopkirk answered.

“Oh.”

Harry couldn’t think up any other questions to ask at that moment. There was too much for him to think about and reconsider. Dumbledore seemed to realize this. He ushered Hopkirk out of the office with a promise to bring Harry to his appointment tomorrow.

“Are you all right, my boy?” Dumbledore asked once they were alone.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded absently. His head was still too full to really respond properly to his professor.

“Don’t worry about attending classes for the rest of the day or tomorrow. I’ll have Professor McGonagall come and fetch you when it’s time for your appointment. Have a good afternoon, Harry,” Dumbledore dismissed him.

Harry wandered aimlessly through the hallways of Hogwarts. He didn’t know what to think about this revelation, and only shared his discovery with his two best friends.

“This could be a good thing. You have a father who is alive,” Hermione enthused.

“Yeah, he can’t be any worse than your muggle relatives,” Ron nodded.

“You’re right,” Harry forced himself to smile.

He supposed he wouldn’t know for certain until he met the man. Harry had forgotten to ask what his name was maybe then he could have learned a little more about what type of wizard he was.

That night Harry could hardly sleep. He tossed and turned in his four-poster bed in Gryffindor tower. The next morning he got up early since he wasn’t really able to sleep anyway. He went down to breakfast where he picked at his food until Ron and Hermione joined him. Towards the end of breakfast McGonagall appeared at his side, and Harry knew it was time for him to go.

“Good luck, mate,” Ron called.

“It will be all right, Harry,” Hermione flashed him a large smile.

Harry gave a quick wave. His stomach was swarming with too many nerves for him to reply without the risk of throwing up the little he managed to eat.

Professor McGonagall led him out the front doors of Hogwarts to a carriage. Harry recognized them as the ones the third years and above took into Hogsmeade on the weekends. Dumbledore was waiting for them, and he smiled kindly at Harry as he joined him. Professor McGonagall saw them off with a wave, and a sad smile. Dumbledore struck up a conversation about socks of all things as they road in the carriage. It was a nice distraction to keep Harry from worrying over what was going to happen.

In Hogsmeade they travelled to a run down pub called the Hog’s Head. Dumbledore introduced him to the floo, and carefully explained how to use it. They were going to floo travel directly to St. Mungos, the wizarding hospital in Britain. 

Dumbledore went through first so that Harry could watch how it was done. He watched as his headmaster completely disappeared. It was a bit terrifying but Harry steeled his courage, and stepped into the green flames. To his awe it didn’t so much as burn.

Taking a deep breath he called out, “St. Mungos!”

What happened next the most awful, jarring experience of Harry’s life. He whipped by all sorts of different fireplaces as he spun through the floo. Finally he was spat out where he stumbled, and fell into a heap on the ground.

“Well done, Harry,” Dumbledore praised.

He felt his professor’s arms scoop under his own as he hefted him up onto his feet.

“What did you think of your first floo trip, my boy?” Dumbledore asked with a bright smile.

“Er… it was all right I guess,” Harry answered evasively.

Dumbledore gave a small chuckle, “It is something that one becomes more accustomed to the more you do it.”

Harry didn’t ever want to do it again. He much preferred flying over floo any day.

“Well, I best let them know we’re here,” Dumbledore moved over to the reception counter.

Harry glanced around at their surroundings. St. Mungos didn’t look all that different from what Harry would have expected of a muggle doctor’s waiting room. A reception desk sat on one end of the room where a couple of witches sat flicking various scrolls of parchment through the air to fly off down a corridor. The magazines, and the healthy living posters on the walls were all moving. Chairs lined the walls where various injured witches and wizards sat. They just didn’t have the same kinds of injuries or illnesses that a muggle hospital would. One wizard was covered in purple dots while there was a witch coughing up feathers. Some had animal body parts or were missing limbs all together.

Dumbledore informed the witch behind the desk who they were, and that they had an appointment. They were quickly escorted to a private exam room. Harry felt himself getting more nervous by the second as they waited for the healer to arrive. Tilda Hopkirk joined them in the exam room to be an official witness to the proceedings. The only person who was notably absent was the wizard who was claiming to be his biological father. Harry apparently wouldn’t be meeting his father until after the paternity test came back positive.

The healer eventually made his appearance. He introduced himself as Healer Redfort. Harry rather liked him, and the easy way he explained the steps of what he was going to do to complete the paternity test. There was a potion they used in such cases where they could compare two blood samples to see if they shared a parent/child relationship. The potion would turn black if there was a relationship, and white if there wasn’t. Healer Redfort had already taken a sample of blood from his possible birth father, and would need to take a few drops from Harry to complete the process.

Harry consented, and watched as a few drops of his blood fell into the vial of silvery gray liquid. Healer Redfort carefully stirred the potion, and they all watched as the potion slowly turned a deep black.

“That confirms it, proceedings will begin for Regulus Black to get custody of Harry Potter,” Hopkirk announced.

“Surely that’s something that needs to be discussed further at a hearing,” Dumbledore stated.

“We’ve looked over the records. Regulus Black never legally signed over his rights. As the proven birth father there aren’t any other obstacles impeding his parental rights,” Hopkirk replied stiffly.

“There is the matter of the guardians who have raised him his entire life. Don’t they deserve the chance to make their case and keep custody?” Dumbledore questioned.

Harry wondered if Dumbledore would still insist on including the Dursleys if he knew they would gladly turn him over.

“Harry’s current guardians have been apprised of the situation. They were willing to sign over their rights once the situation was explained to them. They want Harry to be with his birth father,” Hopkirk explained looking triumphant.

Dumbledore frowned. “There should still be—”

“Perhaps this conversation can be continued between the two of you another time? I have to give Harry the antidote to the blood adoption potion,” Healer Redfort interrupted.

Harry was still reeling from the fact that it was true. He had a father who was alive and well, and whose name was apparently Regulus Black.

“Certainly, I will go and inform Mr. Black of the results, and have him sign some of the paperwork before sending him over here,” Hopkirk stood, and exited the room.

Dumbledore excused himself as well. No doubt to continue the conversation he’d been having with Hopkirk.

“I have the antidote here Harry, along with a nutrient potion, and a pain relief potion,” Healer Redfort revealed a tray where three potion vials sat.

“Take the pain relief first,” Healer Redfort handed him the white vial first.

It was a bit terrifying to think that in just a few short minutes he wouldn’t look like himself anymore. He would look like an entirely new person. Everything was about to change, and Harry couldn’t decide if that was a good thing. He was about to get a father but he didn’t know anything about that father. Regulus Black had to be somewhat okay if he actually wanted Harry. It was more than Harry could say for the Dursleys.

Harry gulped down the potions as quickly as he could. It was the pain potion first, followed quickly by the antidote, and the nutrient potion. A tingling sensation like the pins and needles feeling when his arm fell asleep spread over his body. The pain-numbing potion caused this sensation in place of the pain he would feel Healer Redfort explained as Harry laid there waiting for the process to be over.

It took just over fifteen minutes before his appearance settled, and stopped changing. When it was over Healer Redfort transfigured a mirror for him to look over his new appearance. Harry had to work up the courage to look at his reflection. When he did he found a stranger looking back at him.

Harry traced a finger down his nose, and over his lips as he tried to get used to his new features. His nose was shaped like a blade, straight and sharp. His lips were fuller now. His cheekbones were higher, and his jaw was a bit stronger. His face was longer but much more aristocratic, and just better looking in general. His eyes were a pale icy blue, and spaced a tad further apart. His hair had stayed black but it was somehow even darker now, a true black. Instead of being messy it was a riotous tumble of waves and curls.  

Harry looked down at his knees. They weren’t knobby anymore. His hands were even shaped differently now. His fingers were longer, and slimmer. He was taller with slightly broader shoulders. Harry had always been about average in regards to his peers but now he was closer in height to Ron. His skin was a flawless pale cream. It was awful to be a stranger in your own body. Harry felt terrible.

“It’s going to take some getting used to, Harry. But I promise everything will get better. This is the way you were always meant to look. You’ll find yourself adapting quickly to this body,” Healer Redfort assured.

“Right,” Harry muttered, shocked when even his voice came out a bit different.

A healer’s assistant slipped into the room.

“Healer Redfort, Mr. Black would like to come in,” the young witch explained.

Healer Redfort glanced at Harry, “Are you ready to meet your father?”

“I suppose,” Harry figured he might as well get it over with. The not knowing and the waiting would be worse for Harry.

Healer Redfort went to the door of the exam room. Harry’s heart was pounding as the healer went out into the hallway to get Regulus Black.

Moments later another wizard appeared in the doorway. Harry recognized him instantly because he had just seen the same features in the mirror. The wizard was tall with wide shoulders, and a lean build. He was quite handsome with a strong jaw, and an aristocratic face. His hair was a thick wavy black that brushed his chin, and his eyes were a sharp, pale gray. A well-trimmed goatee graced his face.

Regulus Black held himself rigid as he stared at Harry with a look of awed disbelief in his light gray eyes.

“I can’t believe it’s real,” Regulus finally spoke as he carefully crossed the distance to Harry’s bedside.

Harry looked up at the wizard as he continued to stare. Now that he was a bit closer Harry could see the gathering of tears in his eyes, and a smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“Hello, Harry, my name is Regulus Black. I’m your father. It is so wonderful to finally meet you,” Regulus greeted.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Harry sent him a timid smile.

“I’m sure this must be quite difficult for you,” Regulus offered a smile of his own.

He pulled one of the chairs over to sit at Harry’s bedside. Healer Redfort quietly left them on their own.

“Yeah, it’s all happening really fast,” Harry nodded.

“I know this is a lot to take in, in a very short amount of time. This has all been very sudden for me as well. I only woke up about a month ago from a coma I’d been in for the past twelve years. Your mother left a letter for you to explain things. It was the only way that I knew you existed. As soon as I was able to get out of my bed long enough I tried to find you, and get custody of you. I loved your mother very dearly, and I would love to get the chance to know you as well,” Regulus explained with a hopeful expression.

“I’d like that,” Harry agreed, feeling a swell of hope.

“I’m glad,” Regulus looked relieved.

It was a relief for Harry to know that his father actually seemed like a decent fellow who actually wanted to be his father.

“Do you know why my mother gave me up for adoption?” Harry asked.

“I have her letter if you’d like to read it? I can answer any questions you might have afterwards,” Regulus offered.

Harry nodded. Regulus surprised Harry by pulling the letter out of his robe pocket. Harry took the letter. It was in fact addressed to him but was meant for his thirteenth birthday when the blood adoption potion would wear off. She went on to explain just why she had done what she had. At the time she had thought his father was dead at the hands of Voldemort. She herself had put a target on her back for publically snubbing him. His mother thought he would be safer if she gave him to the Potters. She had been the one to insist on a blood adoption potion to make sure that no one knew who he was. His mother had just wanted to protect him.

“Did Voldemort find out who I was? Is that why he went after the Potters?” Harry asked.

Regulus only gave the smallest wince at Harry using Voldemort’s name.

“I don’t think so. The Potters had developed their own reputation in defying the Dark Lord around that time,” Regulus replied. 

“What happened to you? Why were you in coma?” Harry questioned.

“It’s quite a long story, one I’d prefer to tell in the comfort of our home,” Regulus explained gently.

“All right. Er what about my mum, what you can you tell me about her?” Harry wanted to know about his birth mother.

Regulus smiled, his eyes warm as he thought of Harry’s mother.

“She was my best friend,” Regulus began.

Harry listened raptly as Regulus told him stories of his mother. The stories went a long way in getting Harry and Regulus comfortable with one another.

“She really stole your treacle tart?” Harry laughed.

“She really did. It was my favorite,” Regulus smiled.

“It’s mine too,” Harry informed him shyly, pleased to discover that the two of them had something in common.

“Is it?” Regulus looked equally pleased to find out they had something in common.

Harry nodded.

“I’ll have Kreacher make us some,” Regulus promised.

“Kreacher?” Harry frowned.

“He’s our house elf,” Regulus explained.

“What’s a house elf?”

Regulus certainly looked surprised.

“House elves are magical creatures that serve wizarding families. They live to clean and take care of their families. I’m surprised you haven’t seen them. Hogwarts has an entire army of them, although I suppose they do like to stay out of sight,” Regulus mused.

There were still so many things Harry didn’t know about the wizarding world. It seemed like he learned something knew about it every day. Maybe now that he had a father who was a wizard they would be able to teach him more about the wizarding world beyond the spells and magical creatures he learned about at Hogwarts.

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Harry murmured.

“Who do you think cleaned your clothes, and picked up after all of the students?” Regulus quirked his brow at Harry.

“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it,” Harry admitted.

“Hogwarts can be overwhelming even for someone who has grown up in the wizarding world,” Regulus nodded.

“So you grew up in the wizarding world?” Harry asked, curious to learn more about his father.

“Yes, the Noble and Ancient House of Black has a very long lineage of wizards. One I would like to share with you,” Regulus smiled.

“What about my mother? They said her name was Illthyia Malfoy. Is she related to Draco Malfoy?” Harry wanted to know. This was something that had been nagging at him since discovering his mother’s last name.

Regulus chuckled.

“Your mother has an older brother. His name is Lucius Malfoy. He married my cousin Narcissa and they have a son named Draco who is in fact your cousin.”

“Wait his mum is your cousin. That means I’m related to Draco twice?” Harry greatly disliked the idea of being related to the blonde git.

Regulus let out a loud, bark-like laugh. “I suppose it does, and I suppose that means the two of you don’t get along.”

“You can say that. He’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to get sorted—” Harry cut himself off mid-sentence.

“You didn’t want to get sorted where?” Regulus asked curiously.

“Slytherin. The hat wanted to put me there but I didn’t want to be in the same house as Draco,” Harry admitted, that and everyone had said only dark wizards were sorted into Slytherin.

“He’s that bad, huh?” Regulus grinned.

Harry nodded.

“His father was a bit of a stuck up snob as well. He grew out of it. Mostly,” Regulus chuckled.

The two of them chatted a bit more until Regulus was called back out into the hallway. Harry wanted to know what they were talking about but he hadn’t been invited into the hallway.

Ten minutes later Regulus returned.

“You’re going to spend the weekend with me, Harry, if you’d like. I wanted the two of us to have some time to get to know one another before you went back to Hogwarts,” Regulus explained.

“I’d like that,” Harry nodded eagerly.

“Let’s get out of here,” Regulus smiled.

“So everything is all set then? You’ve got custody?” Harry wanted to know.

“Yes, everything is official. However, there is just one more thing. I would like to ask if it’s all right that we change your name. I know it’s another change, however I would like to officially make you a Black,” Regulus requested.

“So I’d be Harry Black?” Harry asked.

“Well, it would be Herakles Black. You see we have a tradition about naming our children after stars. I don’t want to give you a completely different name. I thought Herakles is a name where Harry can still be a nickname,” Regulus explained carefully.


End file.
